A Hope Rebounded
by SiddaCullen
Summary: Katniss promised herself that she'd get Peeta out of the arena alive. Even if it meant sacrificing herself. The Capitol, intending to capture Peeta, ends up with Katniss instead. He'll do anything to get her back, but does she want to be saved?
1. Beginnings

Prologue

When I think about how I ended up here, I can't help but think of Effie Trinket.

If she hadn't reached into that bowl when she did and pulled out the one slip of paper that was like an arrow straight in my heart, things would be different. Prim wouldn't have been chosen, I might not have been in the Games, and we would have continued on with our lives. It wouldn't have been perfect. I'd still be consumed with food, forever worrying about having enough. But at least Gale would still be here, District 12 would still be here, and the deaths of all those people would not have happened.

Panem would not have been thrown into chaos if Effie Trinket had just waited another one more second, or hadn't taken so long drawing out a name. Prim's slip would have fluttered past her bony fingers and some other poor girl would have been chosen instead.

But I've been told I can't dwell on what could have been. It's a useless chain of thought that will only cause me more despair. Deep down, I know they're right. But whenever I close my eyes, I see myself back in the woods surrounding District 12, hunting game until I'm too old to hold a bow, with Prim. Maybe Gale, but Prim is always there. We're companions for life. And who knows? Maybe she'd get married. She's certainly the type. I might've even been an aunt, but the thought is too painful for me to even consider. I promised myself I'd never have kids because I couldn't bear to see them in the Hunger Games. It would be no different if I were to see Prim's children in them, too.

But I push the thought away. I'm glad they can never happen. Maybe that's the one good thing to come out of all this. Even if we fail and the Capitol regains control of the districts once again, at least I'll know I never again have to see somebody I care about forced into the Games.

Soft footsteps in the distance tell me I'm about to have a visitor. Try as I might, I can't stop the tremor of fear that shakes my body. I fly off the bed and huddle in the far corner of my small white cell. I bring my knees up underneath my chin and wrap my pathetically thin arms around them, trying to make myself as small as possible. The effort is futile. I know that, and my visitor knows it. But it's the only thing I can do, and I have to do something.

The footsteps grow louder as they come nearer. Each echoing thud causes my heart rate to speed up more and more. By the time they stop just outside my door it feels as though my chest is about to burst open. I hear the familiar jingle of keys and soon enough my door is thrown open.

Light spills into the otherwise dark room. I squint for a moment, trying to adjust. I expect my visitor to close the door but he surprises me by keeping it open. I don't know whether to be relieved or alarmed by this. Either he hasn't come to torture me, or there's no one around to hear my screams.

He steps closer. His black shoes sound like thunder against the cool tile floor. I flinch as he reaches his arm out to me but he doesn't hesitate. Soon he's holding my upper arm in a vice-like grip and pulls me to my feet. I stumble from the force and gasp from the pain of his grip. I expect him to take me out of the room but instead he throws me on the bed. I land face first but struggle to stand back up. I do not have the strength to accomplish this and we both know it. My visitor is quick to pin me to the bed, his left hand pushing against my chest to prevent me from sitting up. I thrash and struggle, desperate to kick any part of him I can, but I don't get very far.

It isn't until he leans over me that I see the syringe in his free hand. It's large and filled with a clear liquid that I'd call water if I didn't know better. My eyes widen as I realize what he's going to do.

But I don't have a chance to fight as my visitor plunges the syringe into the crook of my neck. I struggle one last time but the energy is quickly taken from me as the effect of whatever drug he pushed into me takes effect. My eyelids flutter. I try to hold on to consciousness, but the last thing that I notice before the battle is lost is that the visitor drapes a soft gray blanket gently around my numb body.


	2. One

****A/N: Thanks to those of you who added on favorites and alerts. I appreciate it. This is a project I'm nervous and excited about and I hope you stick with it and enjoy it. Just in case there's any confusion of the timeline, this chapter takes place right after the Quarter Quell, not the prologue. Please review, I'd love to know how I'm doing! Suzanne Collins owns everything Hunger Games.

One

Five Days Earlier

It's hard to focus when I open my eyes. Images are gray and blurry, making it impossible to make out anything solid. I blink rapidly to adjust to the blinding light and try to sit up but find myself restrained. For a moment panic sets in. Where am I? What's happened? I want to ask but I haven't figured out how to speak yet. Instead I thrash around madly, desperate to move. My arms are at my sides but I can't move them at all. My restraints are think and soft. Leather, maybe?

When I finally do find my voice it's to scream. I don't mean to sound so afraid but that's how it comes out. Like a wild animal I used to hunt, I am desperate for freedom but I know I can't get away. And even though this realization sets in, I can't accept it. So I continue to thrash and scream, ignoring the scratching in my throat.

I don't feel the short pinch in the crook of my right arm until it's too late. I jerk my head around and find the silhouette of a person standing beside me. I still can't make out any images so I can't tell if it's a man or a woman. But at the moment it doesn't matter. The only thing I register before the world goes black is the soft cackle of the person with me.

**~~AHR~~**

It's much harder to open my eyes when I come to again. I have no idea how much time has passed but if the stiffness in my limbs is any indication, it's been hours. My head is throbbing so hard that my eyes snap shut. I make to raise my arm to rub my forehead but my arms are still restrained at my sides. I want to groan but all that comes out is a soft whimper. A brief image of Buttercup, Prim's cat, flashes through my chaotic mind but I quickly push it away. It only intensifies the pain in my head.

I sigh, about to try to raise my head, but a voice stops me.

"Don't try to move."

I stiffen at the unexpected sound. The voice is male but it's not coming from my room. It has a distant electronic sound, as though it's coming from an intercom. Instinctively I try to sit up but the restraints at my arms and legs prevent the effort. I am trapped.

"Wh...where...?"

"Don't speak. Just rest."

There's something about the voice that makes me listen. It's impossible to tell if it belongs to a man or a woman. It's monotonous and dull but authoritative. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to fight, to defy whoever is watching me. But the more rational part of me keeps me from moving. Instead I shut my mouth and relax my stiff, tense limbs and wait for someone to come in and explain to me what's going on.

**~~AHR~~**

I'm numb. My arms have long since fallen asleep and my legs are itching to kick something. Or someone. I'm too uncomfortable to do much other than think about the questions I'm dying to ask someone. I know it's useless to yell out at my invisible captors; to demand to know where I am. I have a feeling I already know and I'm not sure I'm ready to accept it.

I've tried to figure out the last thing I remember. Every time I do, I see Peeta's face smiling grimly at me. I see Finnick, Johanna, and Beetee as well. We're tromping through the trees, about to set a trap for District 2. Johanna suddenly turns on me, digging her knife into my arm. Me, shooting an arrow through the chink in the force field. Then chaos. And then nothing.

"_Peeta!" _The hysterical voice breaks through my subconscious so quickly that I jump. _"Peeta, no! Run!" _

Who would scream at Peeta like that? Was it me? So many questions flitter through my brain. I'm so distracted that I don't hear the metal door open and the soft click of heels hitting the tile floor.

I turn my head in the direction of the sound and open my eyes. The shape of a tall woman approaches me, holding something in her hands. I can't make out her exact form, my vision still foggy, but as she comes closer to me I realize that she's holding a tray. Automatically I flinch away from her but the restraints at my arms tighten, forcing me back into place.

"What...wh...?" My voice is too cracked to say much. I want to ask her what she's doing but I suppose she'll answer that for me soon enough. I expect her to put the tray on the small metal table a few feet away from me, but instead she brings up a bright orange foldout chair and sits down to my side. She is silent as she does this, setting her tray carefully on her lap. I turn my head in her direction, refusing to look away from her and search immediately for the syringe I know she must have.

She surprises me further by holding a beautiful china spoon out to me. Before I blink she has her free hand behind my head, helping me to slowly sit up as much as I can and take what she's giving me.

I immediately recognize the lamb stew the moment it touches my lips. I hadn't realized how hungry I was since my intense fear blocked it. Now my stomach feels like an empty pit and I greedily open my mouth, unabashed, eager for more. The woman gives me another, more and more until there's nothing left. It's all too soon when the bowl is empty. I expect the woman to stay and explain what's going on, but the moment she tosses the spoon into the empty bowl she stands up in one swift motion and saunters out of my room careful not to look at me.

"Hey!" I try to shout but I can't manage more than a normal tone. I try to lift my head but it feels like a leaden brick. I hear the click of a lock and fading footsteps. I want to say more, try harder to be heard, but I know it's useless. Instead push my head down onto pillow and try to ignore the irritation in my limbs. The room goes dark as I fade back into unconsciousness.

**~~AHR~~**

I wake up to a surprise. There is someone sitting beside me. A man this time. A quick glance in his direction takes me aback. He's sitting in the same orange chair as the woman before him, his lap tray-free. He's leaning back, one leg draped over the other. One of his arms is resting against the back of the chair. He's staring at me as though I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. The fact that I'm now awake doesn't perturb him.

"Good morning," he says pleasantly. His voice, though seemingly chipper, is hard and determined. I get the sense that he's analyzing me.

He raises his eyebrows at me, as though he's expecting me to answer him. When I don't he frowns slightly and sits up a little straighter. "You do know where you are, don't you, Miss Everdeen?"

I stare at him, unable to do anything else. For reasons yet unknown to me, I don't want to answer him.

"After you shot through the force field, people went wild. Districts went after their Peacekeepers, driven by your act of rebellion. They openly declared war against the Capitol. The Capitol had no choice but to retaliate," the man explains matter-of-factly.

My blood turns cold at the nonchalance of his voice. Like he's merely stating facts that don't matter to him. We regard each other, my questioning gaze meeting his amused one. I try not to look as though his words are affecting me, but images of people watching me shoot an arrow through what's supposed to be an unbreakable barrier and in turn rebel against the oppressive government they've tolerated for too long, only to be brought down by the means of the Capitol flash through my mind like a twisted version of the Hunger Games. Once more the guilt consumes me. It's probably what this man wants. His satisfied grin gives me my answer.

"Now Panem is at war. People think your careless acts of stupidity were brave efforts to inspire change. You realize this is all your fault, don't you?" he asks as he glares at me.

I want to bring my hands up to shield myself from his hurtful words. I can't listen to this. I'm not strong enough. His words insinuate so much, but I can't bring myself to ask what I want to know the most, too afraid of his answer.

The man sighs and stands up. I can see his simple black suit, looking normal by Capitol standards. His golden hair is short and spiky and white eyeliner surrounds his blue eyes. He might've looked handsome if he wasn't so terrifying. For a brief moment I'm afraid he's going to attack me. I stiffen as he takes a step towards me but he just smirks and looks down at me in disgust.

It takes what little strength I have left to force myself to ask him a question I already know the answer to. "Where am I?"

"The Capitol, of course," the man answers as he begins to walk around the bed I am tied to. He's circling his prey, psyching me out, and I wonder if the irony is obvious to him. "A secret prison we used in the Dark Days for rebel prisoners. It hasn't been in much use for the past seventy-five years but we have had the occasional suspect of rebel activity."

He must anticipate me to start questioning him because he stops when he is back in front of me and watches me carefully. When I don't say anything else he continues with a new malice in his tone. "You're levels underground in a building our ancestors were careful never to put on any map. No one knows you are here, Miss Everdeen, so don't get any ideas!"

He glares at me once more, and then abruptly turns and heads for the door. I watch him helplessly, wanting to shout at him, _what could I possibly do? _

He stops as he opens the door and turns back to me. "They left you here, Katniss. Alone and at the mercy of the Capitol. They thought you were important to their cause, and they abandoned you. You obviously aren't as important as you thought you were. Think about what's really at stake and those you believe are your allies. Think about which side the odds really are in favor of."

And he's gone, the lock of the door signaling my abrupt retreat into solitude.


	3. Two

A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed and added to favorites/alerts. This chapter is short again. Sorry about that. I'm still setting up the story so it'll change once the story is set up. Reviews motivate me to update quicker, so please don't forget! They help me and let me know how you're liking the story!

Two

The next day, or what I assume is the next day since so much time has passed, the woman who fed me the lamb stew returns. I almost don't bother to turn my head since I'm quickly discovering that no good can come from these visitors. But I can't afford to be caught off guard. I'm still restrained to the bed so there's not much I could to do fight off an attack.

Now that my vision isn't so foggy I can see the woman more clearly. She's much taller than I'd originally thought, and much more beautiful. Her honey colored hair is long and runs down her back in elegant curls. She's wearing a light blue silk dress that hugs her body, reaching just below her knees. Somehow her light pink skin enhances her beauty, instead of detracting from it. It's like the color of a flower.

I notice that this time she's not carrying a tray. She opens the door with the same care she takes in closing it and sways over in my direction. As before, she's careful not to look at me. She stops when she's beside the orange chair, smoothens her dress, and sits gracefully, turning to face me.

Her eyes are violet, accentuated with the black eyeliner around them. She looks at me, scrutinizing me like she's trying to figure me out. I stare back at her, unsure what to do. It seems neither of us wants to be the first one to look away.

I feel small under her gaze. So unimportant, like a bug we sometimes find in our homes back in District 12. The ones we stomp on and get stuck underneath our shoes.

Finally, in a surprisingly cool, indifferent voice, the woman speaks. "Hello, Katniss."

I hope she's not expecting an answer because I don't have one. I stare at her, hoping to convey through my eyes how much I dislike her and her pink skin.

"My name is Acantha. I'm here to take care of you," she continues, not put off by my silence. I'm pretty sure she was expecting it, because suddenly she smiles as though we're old friends. She's younger than I initially thought, no older than twenty-one at the most. "I know you probably have a thousand questions but before we get to that, I'm going to get you cleaned up."

She stands up so suddenly that I'm not prepared for it. She steps up to my bed, ignoring my flinch as she reaches out her arms to mine. She quickly unfastens the restraints on my right side then goes over to do the same to my left. My arms and legs, my whole body, is so stiff and sore from being in one position for so long that it takes me a good minute or two just to get the feeling back in them.

Acantha steps back near the door, waiting patiently for me to regain the strength it will require to get up. My entire back feels like it's been laying on thorns. My arms and legs have that prickly sensation you feel after they've been asleep for so long. When I finally do try to sit up, it's only to be pushed immediately back onto the bed from my utter lack of strength. I want to cry, but the thought of doing it in front of this Capitol woman pushes that desire down.

"Will it be better if I help?" Acantha asks softly.

I shake my head fiercely, as much anger as I can manage at the moment. Gritting my teeth, I take two deep breaths and then force myself up despite the pain my body feels in protest. Though it takes much longer than I would've ever thought possible, and even though I feel as though I've been trampled by a herd of deer, finally I am sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to figure out the best way to stand up. Falling isn't an option.

I don't look at Acantha, knowing if I do I will find her hiding a smile. We've always appeared as savages to the Capitol, so I must look like a real cavewoman as I try to relearn how to walk. But I can't help but think they have no one but themselves to blame. I wouldn't even be in this condition if it wasn't for them.

I take another breath, wishing I had something to hold onto, and push myself up. It isn't until I'm balancing myself on my shaky legs that I notice the gauze bandage on my arm from where Johanna dug her knife back in the arena. I stare at it for a moment, and the final moments that I remember come rushing back to me, less foggy now.

There was a lot of chaos. I was disoriented for a lot of it. But I do remember seeing the force field, the feel of the bow in my hands as the thought came to me before I even realized what I was about to do. The hovercrafts descending the moment the arena was blasted open.

"_Peeta!" I scream, hysterical with my need to find him. "Peeta! Where are you?" _

_There's a cry in the distance that I think might be his, but there's no time to find out because the hovercraft materializes out of nowhere. I expect it to stop straight above me, but it zooms ahead and I know, somehow, that it's going after Peeta. I run, flying so fast, and scream his name over and over. I can't see him, but I can't let the Capitol take him. I would never be able to live with myself. _

"_Peeta!" There, in the far of distance near a brush of trees, is the familiar boy I tried so hard to protect. He's running, too; flailing his arms out to me as though he's gesturing to me to turn back the other way. "Peeta, run!" I scream, but he's gesturing even more desperately for me to go back. It's not the gesture itself, but the sheer look of panic on his face that makes me turn back immediately to run back the way I'd come. _

_That's when I feel the metal claw take hold of my body. I'm completely immobilized as I'm lifted up, up, out of the arena, away from Peeta._

The next thing I know is a pair of smooth hands on my shoulders. The woman, Acantha, is kneeling beside me, her eyes wide with concern. I look around and find myself on the ground.

"Are you alright?" she asks. For a moment I think she actually cares until I remember that we're in the Capitol. How could a woman who lives in a society that watched me nearly be killed twice care whether I'm okay or not? The idea itself is ridiculous and ironic.

I brush her hands off my body and give her a curt nod as I struggle to get to my feet once more. Luckily no flashbacks overtake me this time so I'm able to remain standing as Acantha looks me over as though she's not sure I can manage the simple task of walking. When I stand still for about another couple of seconds she finally nods at me and opens the door slowly, never taking her eyes off me. She holds the door open for me, letting me leave the cell first, and makes me step back against a white brick wall so she can close and lock the door.

I take the opportunity to look around. My cell is at the end of a long, narrow hallway. It's brightly illuminated but lacks in color and decoration. It's hard to associate this place with the Capitol because it is so...dank. There's no other word to describe it. The walls are white, the floors are white, and it's silent. Eerily silent.

"Come." The woman motions with her hand for me to walk ahead of her down the hallway. She walks a step behind me, careful to keep me within grabbing distance just in case I decide to run. If I wasn't in such an awful state, I might've considered it. But it's all I can do just to put one foot in front of the other.

As we go we pass several doors identical to the one that led to my cell. The desire to open one, to find out if any of my friends are behind them, is nearly too much to bear. But Acantha clears her throat every time I turn my head, making it clear I am only to we reach the end of the halltells me to turn left. We come to another hallway, though this one is much shorter. After that we turn left again, then right, then left, then right. There are so many turns that I quickly become lost in the labyrinth. I guess that's the point, and why Acantha lets the distance between us grow considerably after each turn. Not that I can blame her. I stink, and there's little chance I could find my way out of here now.

"Stop," she says once we turn left. There's a white door in front of us. I look at it, wondering what could possibly be behind it. For a moment fear overtakes me, but I quickly stifle it and watch as Acantha steps around me to open it. I don't know what I'm expecting, but a bathroom was nowhere near the top of my list.

"I'm sure you could use freshening up. Take a shower, as long as you need. You won't be interrupted. When you're done just knock on the door. I'll give you some fresh clothes and then take you to your room," she explains.

She doesn't give me any time to ask questions, but it doesn't matter because everything she says is straightforward. The moment I'm inside the small bathroom, with only a plain black toilet and shower, the door closes and I hear the familiar click of a lock. But there are no retreating footsteps, telling me that the Capitol woman will be standing guard.

Great.

With nothing left to do, I use the toilet then quickly undress. The shower is cold but I need it so badly that I hardly notice. I step into it, letting the water run down my body before I bother about wiping the dirt and grime from the arena out of it. It's not until then, under the safety of the running water, that the tears finally come.


End file.
